


of oranges and ice packs

by hananapeel



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, blood..... i guess1?!?!?!?!? not really at all but, he got wisdom tooth surgery so his mouth is bleeding i guess haha, umm yeah just cute fluff i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hananapeel/pseuds/hananapeel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which futakuchi is loopy on wisdom teeth anesthesia and ennoshita needs a seat on the train</p>
            </blockquote>





	of oranges and ice packs

**Author's Note:**

> hello this is my first fic ever but hope you enjoy my favorite ship atm haha,, ennofuta is the brainchild of the amazing [memorde](http://archiveofourown.org/users/memorde/pseuds/memorde) and please read her ennofuta [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2893118)!!!!!!! also thanks to the amazing [jsunny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jsunny) for the headcanons and the awesome beta shes da real mvp
> 
> also yo find me on tumblr [here](http://hananapeel.tumblr.com)

The train home from Tokyo was crowded; kids exhausted from running around the city all Saturday dozed on parents’ shoulders, couples shared headphones after their afternoon dates, suited businessmen checked email on their phones. Ennoshita hefted the computer his mom wanted him to pick up higher in his arms, sharp cardboard box edges digging ridges into his fingers. He hooked an arm around a pole and sighed, resigning himself to two hours of sore feet and squiggly cardboard welts.

Little did he expect the train-clearing capabilities of Futakuchi Kenji and Aone Takanobu.

They boarded just one stop after Ennoshita and it was perhaps Aone’s browless glare that first cleared a little claustrophobic space around the pair of them. But it was definitely Futakuchi who cleared the masses in droves: Futakuchi, head lolling against Aone’s shoulder, ice pack pressed against his swollen cheek, seemingly still weathering the effects of wisdom tooth anesthesia as he shouted nonsensical insults muffled only slightly by the cotton that stuffed his mouth.

“Pfft!” Futakuchi used Aone as a balancing pole and used his other hand to wave his ice pack at a man who could be Hinata’s twin: bright hair with a matching tangerine track suit. “You’re so orange man...” Futakuchi wobbled as he attempted a few Broadway dance moves and broke out into warbly song. “You’re an orange! O, an orangey oranged orange! Juiced, baked, marmaladed!” The man stood up angrily and Futakuchi turned away and sniggered. “Don’t look so sour man... Though you are a citrus, maybe it’s part of your nature...”

One (“pro tip man, you could get more dates if you weren’t a bucket”), two (“I thought parrots were extinct before I saw you, dude.. wait, parrots aren’t extinct, are they..?”), three (“Aone, are parrots extinct?”) stops since Futakuchi boarded and the train car was magically empty of traumatized, bewildered passengers. Ennoshita flopped gratefully against a window seat, the computer box heavy on his lap. He looked across the aisle at Futakuchi air guitaring to the ambient train music and grinned; who knew that Datekou’s Iron Wall was useful for more than blocking spikes?

Futakuchi finished his air solo with some headbangs and windmill strums, and suddenly Ennoshita found himself pierced by oddly intense eyes for a guy so out of mind with drugs. “Yo. You on Karasuno?” Futakuchi slurred, leaning over to pick back up the ice pack abandoned for his air solo and almost slumping onto the ground in his downwards momentum. 

“Um... Yeah.” Ennoshita hugged his box a little closer to his chest, feeling inexplicably embarrassed in front of a guy who was struggling to climb back up and who finally accepted Aone’s hand to be pulled into his seat. It’s not like he played in the Karasuno-Datekou game anyway, just cheered from the sidelines, which he swore he didn’t mind, but here he was talking to Datekou’s Iron Wall, who probably never quit volleyball in their lives, and wasn’t it normal to feel just a little bit inferior?

“Yeah. I remember you. Aone thought you were hot as hell.”

Aone’s gaze shot up from his phone to Ennoshita, silent and wide-eyed. Futakuchi caught the silent message and grinned. “Ahh.. um well maybe it was just me? Nah, Aone definitely has the hots for you, right? Your thighs are reallyyyyy nice. Don’t you think so, Aone?” Aone glanced once at Futakuchi, once at Ennoshita, and took his phone back out.

Ennoshita rested his chin on the top of the box and tried to remind himself that this was just a guy drunk on general anesthesia, but a reluctant smile still slipped out. “Are you really trying to hit on me, Futakuchi-san?”

“I don’t know, Chikaraaa,” Futakuchi slurred, heavy-lidded and suddenly inadvertently sensual. “Am I?”

“Either way, I’m not sure about dating someone who called a guy an orange.”

“What’s not a-peel-ing about some citrus-related insults?”

“Um, he could have beaten you to a pulp?”

“Wow, Chikara, so zesty.”

They grinned at each other and Ennoshita laughed despite himself; he remembered Futakuchi to be rather provoking. He didn’t know if it was the drugs but the Futakuchi in front of him now was witty but silly, long limbs akimbo and bangs flopping over his eyes as he leaned back and loudly counted orange related dishes like sheep: orange roasted ham, orange chicken, candied orange, cranberry orange cookies... And Ennoshita tucked half his face behind the box on his lap to hide his blush– Futakuchi was... Well he was quite... cute.

Well. 

-

A few hours later, Aone already having gone his separate way, tired after dealing with Futakuchi for four hours straight, Ennoshita walked Futakuchi home in dusky twilight. The box in his arms heavy but welcome. For it was the painful pressure in his hands that told him that yes, this was real, yes, Futakuchi’s arm was slung heavily over his shoulders, yes, if Ennoshita tilted his head just a little more left his hair could brush Futakuchi’s neck. “Man, it’s a good thing that you ended up living close to me, Chikara.” His hot, drugged breath warmed Ennoshita’s already overheated neck. He gestured up and down his body and made exaggerated kissy faces. “Aone can’t keep up with all this.” 

“No one even wants to, you hyperactive asshole. And get off of me.”

“Mmm... no. Privileges of the sick. Also I like groping your biceps.”

Ennoshita huffed a short, exasperated, affectionate breath. “You’re crazy.”

Futakuchi stopped, and looked heavy-lidded down at Ennoshita, his gaze suddenly shy. “Yeah.. Maybe I am,” he said quietly, eyes dark, and blood pumped heady and thick in Ennoshita’s veins– oh my god, oh my god, he’s leaning down, he’s going to kiss me–

“Is this ice pack even working?” 

Ennoshita blinked and Futakuchi was unraveling the paper towel that the dentist had wrapped over the ice pack. Stupid, stupid to think that anything was going to happen, and he watched as Futakuchi examined the blue coolant that pooled inside plastic casing. “Yo, Chikara, is this the ocean?”

“No, and shut up, Kenji.” Ennoshita turned around to leave; Futakuchi could crawl home for all he cared, stupid, overexcited heart–

But before he could take a step, warm hands grabbed his waist and he was tugged back around, a quick “sorry, sorry” and two pairs of lips pushed awkwardly together over a cardboard box, metallic twang of blood-soaked cotton, and an ice pack left abandoned on the sidewalk.

**Author's Note:**

> ya i just really like the idea of futakuchi pretending to be loopy on drugs bc he was just too shy to confess lmfao. and thanks for reading this!!


End file.
